ascension

 After the Ascension we await the coming of the Spirit, the fulfillment of his promise. “I will not leave you orphaned.” He is gone and the Other has not come. Not yet. We wait in ambiguity - not with our customary pride in dwelling in ambiguity - in anxiety, in wondering, and waiting. Confident as we are in his promises, where is this promised Advocate and when shall our Comforter come? The disciples’ dilemma is much like our own, or much like that of anybody waiting in the in-between time between dream, promise, and fulfillment. They are, however, doubly bereft. ‘They have taken away my Lord and I do not know where to find him.’ Then he returns - joyfully, improbably, impossibly. A miracle. And it is said that for forty days he teaches them, in a new way, all that they did not realize that they knew. For it is the resurrected Jesus following the historical Christ who reveals what this is all about. Perhaps just by his presence, by the grasp that death has lost its sting. At least for a moment, at least where they’re concerned - for now. Later the persecution will come. Later they will die, naturally, or under torture, or whatever fate follows a follower of the resurrected one. They come to know all this. And still they follow him. There is nowhere else to go. Peter called it, long since. ‘Where could we go? You, Lord, hold the secret of eternal life.’ All else is not that. 

Jesus has ascended, but he has not left us bereft of comfort or of the power of the Spirit.

And so in obedience to that risen Lord, and in the hope of the resurrection and the promise of the Spirit, we still seek to follow the Lord, and his commandments, to love - to love God, to love one another, to love all of creation. It may mean witness, it may mean action, it certainly implies work… but not only work, but dwelling in the peace of the Spirit. We know that our redeemer lives, and on the last day, we will be raised: the promise will be fulfilled.

So in our lives we balance work and rest, prayer and work, peace and action. Yes we can. For in the Spirit, the Spirit promised to the first disciples and bestowed on the Church, we experience the power of God, in ourselves and in our world.

Job 19:25,26b-27a : For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: ...in my flesh shall I see God: Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another...

Martyrs and Kings

Every transition has an end, a middle, and a beginning. The Church Year ends with the feast of Christ the King, the Reign of Christ, a feast instituted by Pope Pius X during the rise of Fascism in Italy in the 1920s. The feast spread to many other church bodies; we celebrate it now as a reminder that God reigns, not us. The Church Year begins anew four Sundays before Christmas Day (whether it occurs on a Sunday or a week day).  

And so as we reach the end of the season that culminates in the feast of Christ the King, we find the story of Jesus about to loop around itself from the end back to the beginning: from the consummation of time to the birth of a baby. "Come thou long expected Jesus" we soon will sing. And he arrives twice! First he comes to us as the infant terrorizing Herod and again as the one before whose throne all will gather. Same person. 

Herod the Great, ruler of Palestine under Roman sponsorship -- who built the great buildings whose ruin Jesus prophesies -- got the message early and he did not like it. That earthbound despot wanted no rivals, especially legitimate ones. Some more recent sovereigns have had similar inclinations.  But God prevails. 

And that is good news that we hear today : Christ forewarned his followers of the difficulties ahead of them and yet reassured them of their ultimate vindication. And so it is when we face hard times, adversity, or mortality: we are not alone. That is why the one who comes is called "Emmanuel" - God with us.

This good news comforts the comfortable and the afflicted, the desperate and the sorrowful and the joyous alike. Since sometimes that can be all of us or any of us this is good news indeed.

That reminder that God reigns came home with force within a decade or two after the feast was first proclaimed. Among those who made it stick in hearts and minds was Kaj Munk, a Danish playwright and pastor, who wrote an impolitic play during the second World War. 

What was the point, and what was the problem, was that he uniquely compared Herod to Hitler. And this did not make the occupying army happy: indeed he was soon a martyr, murdered by the Gestapo, his body found in a ditch the morning after a midnight abduction. 

Call it an arrest or call it an abduction: it was the prelude to murder. He was not the last. Not certainly the last. There have been many martyrs and prophets since his death who have stood in front of evil and proclaimed God’s reign. 

Later in the 20th century it was Janani Luwum, Archbishop in Uganda, who confronted an evil regime with the power of love. He paid with his life. One night he was summoned to the presidential palace, and he stood right in front of his country’s ruler, Idi Amin, and refused to renounce the truth. For that he was shot and killed.

These are among the known martyrs; others are known but to God. But their work continues; their truth persists; and the culmination of this year and all years is still this: God reigns. That means that whatever claims on our allegiance are offered to us, none is as important as the integrity of the faith that God keeps with us. And that we, faltering and failing and forgiven, attempt to keep with God.  

How are we to follow this one who rejected earthly titles but is 'ruler of the kings of earth' and seated at the right hand of God? Challenging questions as we anticipate the arrival of the King of Kings.

 

The book of Daniel and the book of Revelation reveal visions of what God is doing by telling us what they see God doing in the future. In some ways the prophecies of Daniel seem like visionary accounts of what was already happening in his time while revealing what is really going on in the deep currents of time. 

For example, he speaks of four kingdoms that could be the successors to Alexander the Great. 

Indeed it was one of these, Antiochus IV Epiphanes, r. 175 BCE-164 BCE, who was the immediate enemy of Israel at the time of the book’s composition. 

Nevertheless it has implications beyond that moment, for Daniel prophesies not only what is happening, or has happened, or is going to happen, but what it means. What it means is that God reigns; not Pharaoh, not Nebuchadnezzer, not Cyrus, and certainly not Antiochus IV Epiphanes. 

 

What then is the nature of that reign? Jesus refuses the label of comparative kingship, as if he were to be a head of state alongside the clients of Rome or its rival powers. No, his kingdom is not of this world: it is a heavenly kingdom. But what is that to us? What does it mean for us? 

 

It means our loyalty lies beyond the immediate present press of events; our faith is in something transcendent, someone eternal. The Ancient of Days, in fact. The one who is and was and is to come. And in the Son of Man, who is likewise the first and the last, first born of the resurrection and witness of all that is coming to pass, has come to pass, and will come to pass.

 

And we are in their hands, ultimately; the hands of God. 

 

Our God reigns. Where does he reign? Most of all, in the human heart.

Yes, first of all in the human heart. But it does not end there: it is more than that.

When Jesus speaks of truth he speaks of what is solid, reliable, real. And it implies there is something to be done. Truth that is God made known in Jesus Christ is actionable knowledge. If you know Jesus, you act upon that knowledge.

And so when you know that truth, you have a way, a life, before you: a truth that will set you free.  Free to center your life on the abundant grace of God, revealed in Jesus Christ in its fullness. 

So as the psalm says there may be a night of sorrow but it will open into a new dawn of joy.

 

That is something people of faith have held onto, from that day to this, when that night looks black.

 

And that is the sunrise into glory that we anticipate on the feast day of Christ the King.

JRL+ 

As you have sent me

As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.  (John 17:18)

Carey Nieuwhof has written (on his blog) about the challenges facing churches as they ‘reopen’ towards the end of the current pandemic. The challenges usually we break down into questions such as: What have you maintained? What do you want to keep that you have gained? What do you want to discard (after expressing due gratitude)? What do you want to recover?

Nieuwhof, an Evangelical, lists four marks of congregations he expects to thrive in coming years:

In my view, churches that effectively reach unchurched people in the future will likely be those that:

• Fully embrace hybrid ministry—digital and in-person forms of ministry.

• Focus on moving people forward, not getting them ‘back’.

• Embrace the people they’re trying to reach rather than judge them.

• Be Gospel-driven rather than ideologically driven or partisan.

Of course this doesn’t apply just to ‘reaching the unchurched’ and as Stewart McDonald has pointed out we need to focus on the mission not on ourselves. Remembering Barry Beisner’s first sermon as bishop I recall his three points (and yes we have the T shirts):

1. Stay together.

2. Focus on the mission.

3. Keep moving forward in the name of Christ.

In his priestly prayer, in the 17th chapter of John, our Lord prays for his followers, that they may all be one, that they may love one another, that the Father keep them safe, but also that they be sent into the world as the Father sent the Son. 

That’s a tall order. Think about it. To spend your life proclaiming and embodying the arrival of the reign of God. To accept that witness may include martyrdom. 

“When all about you…” Rudyard Kipling’s speech went. A trifle, in comparison, to being sent by the Father as Jesus himself was sent.

But we are not alone. There is the promise, nascent at the time of the Ascension, that we are one, not only with each other, the Father and the Son, but with the Comforter, the Empowerer, the Enlivening Spirit. Not emperor, empowerer: one who empowers: encourages, supports, gives authority, gives freedom to do something. Not just talk.

Remember when the disciples chose Matthias? One of two candidates brought forward, who could witness, from the baptism of John to the present moment, all that had happened, all that had been going on, with Jesus. One who not only saw it but saw what it meant and committed to follow the Way of Love, the Way of Christ. 

We as people of God each have a way to follow. Alone and together. We too are chosen simply because who we are is who God made us to be and called us to become.

He by the power that is at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine. (Ephesians 3:20)

Where do we start? Or, how do we go on from here?

Embrace what is new, embrace who is new, move forward together, tell the good news, and live it out.

***

Jesus, in his resurrection appearance to the disciples just before his ascension, had said, 'you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.’

What that means, to be his witnesses, in all its implications, becomes the business of the church.

Good thing the Spirit shows up. It's time to get on with it.

As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.  (John 17:18)

JRL+

Christ the King Episcopal Church, Tucson.

Sunday after the Ascension

• Acts 1:15-17, 21-26

• Psalm 93

• 1 John 5:9-13

• John 17:6-19

https://careynieuwhof.com/the-coming-church-split-its-not-what-you-think

"If you can keep your head when all about you..." (If—, by Rudyard Kipling. https://poets.org/poem/if)

Ascension

While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.

Uncertainty, doubt, fear, and even anger: this is where he left them, wasn’t it? He had been taken from them, against their will but apparently according to his, and crucified. He was dead and buried. And then he rose again. He came back. Only this time to – leave again.

But that is not their reaction. They rejoice with him, they are exceedingly glad, and they await the fulfillment of his promise patiently blessing God. They wait.

What he gave them: teaching – all the Scriptures regarding the Messiah, from the Torah, the Prophets, and the Writings – must be fulfilled. In him? In you!

You must go forth and proclaim – you are my emissaries: and this is what you must proclaim: repent and forgive.

The imperial envoys would have a message too: triumph and hegemony, the prince of peace in this world has conquered this world, and now there is peace and quiet. And we can do business in a friendly environment like that. That is good news, gospel, as the world sees it.

Jesus sends his messengers with a different message, a different set of proclamations than any Caesar ever gave: he gives a message that will not gain you the whole world but it will give you your souls.

Repent – turn – convert; and forgive – as you are forgiven.

Then you will be free. Then you will be made whole. Then you will be entering the kingdom that even now is coming in power.

And this power is the power of the Word, of the promise.

“Let it be with me according to your Word.” Way back at the beginning of the story, the good news as Luke tells it, that is what Mary said: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

According to your Word. Not simply will – as Father Andrew pointed out to me this Easter season – not will, as we might interpret it; but Word, as we know it. As we know him.

And how do we know him? We know him in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers, in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, and in every act of service to the unknown stranger and the ones in need among us:

I was hungry and you gave me food,

I was thirsty and you gave me drink,

I was a stranger and you made me welcome,

I was naked and you clothed me,

I was sick and you cared for me,

I was in prison and you came to see me. (Mt 25.35-36)

I was in despair and you came and brought me hope.

Hope.

Hope. That is what they are holding onto. Not riches, fame, or glory, not a particular way of doing things, or of being together. Things are not going to be the way they were. They are going to be different and they are going to be better. Beyond belief.

They have faith beyond faith, formed in doubt. They have gone through a period of struggling as so many of us do. As we all do.

Faith grows in strength as it is transformed through the process of doubt and rebirth.

Baptism is a miniature of the process: we die to the old way, we are immersed in a period of not-knowing, not-being, and we emerge, we begin to emerge, into new life.

Transitions are like that. They begin with an ending, and then pass through a neutral zone (a muddle), before they reach a new beginning. It’s sort of like crossing the street in New Orleans. You leave the curb and cross the lanes of traffic going one way, until you reach what they call the ‘neutral ground’, the in-between place where the streetcars run, or there are trees; it’s just a gap between one way of going and another. And then you cross to the other side. But you don’t get to the other side until you leave the first curb, pass through the scary in-between of the naked neutral place, which you’d just as soon skip, and then you can make your way onto new territory.

An end, a muddle, and a beginning. Simple. Difficult.

Jesus does not leave them alone for long, on the neutral ground between his departure and the new arrival. He blesses them and withdraws from their sight not before he assures them of the promise of the Lord: wait here, wait in the city, and God will clothe you with power.

Now why would he do that? Why would Jesus reassure them, sure, but even better, why would God clothe them with power? So they’ll feel safe again, all better now?

Better than that – God gives the ‘power from on high’ for a higher purpose that self: he gives it so that they can fulfill his final commission, and the promise of God.

Remember what he gave them: teaching and a blessing.

All scriptures must be fulfilled, he taught them, regarding the Son of Man. He must suffer, die, and rise again on the third day. And then – something must happen: PROCLAIM THE GOOD NEWS. That’s your job!

That is Jesus’ final commission to his disciples. All the nations must hear the word: Repent and forgive. Turn and be forgiven. And be released yourself – to live.

Live into the new age now beginning: when God reigns.

We remember his death and proclaim his resurrection, and we prepare the way for his coming in glory.

Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus. Come; be known to us in the breaking of the bread. Be known to us in the breath of your Spirit upon us. Be known to us in one another in love and be known to us in service to the stranger. Amen.

Ascension, Acts 1:1-11, Psalm 47, Psalm 93, Ephesians 1:15-23, Luke 24:44-53, Ac 1.1-11, Ps 47, Ps 93, Eph 1.15-23, Lk 24.44-53, Joel 2.28-32, Joel 2:28-32, loss and gain, hope, Mt 25.35-36, Matthew 25:35-36, Elysian Fields, neutral ground, transitions, JRL+

entrusted with a stewardship

  

May God bless us today as we consider his handiworks, the glory of creation, and the reign of his peace.

Jesus is Lord. Christ is King. Our God reigns. We say it in various ways.

What are we saying? What are we doing? How are we showing – the reign of Christ?

Let’s imagine this church as a big old friendly house, dedicated to holy purpose.

What is it like to arrive here? Can we imagine it – coming here for the first time, perhaps the only time, to hear God’s word, to rest for awhile, to find community – or a little peace.

Walking from the bus stop on the corner, or parking on the grass, gravel, or asphalt of the parking lot, we come in through a low narrow veranda under a big brown roof. In the door we find:

A welcome. We hope. A greeting. A brochure. Perhaps a few people gathered in the doorway, talking together. We get through. Where is the sanctuary? Where do I hang my coat? Where are the restrooms? Where is the nursery? Will there be coffee hour?

This is Christ’s home. It is the house of God. He is welcome here and he is the host.

We see him – in the familiar faces and the strangers. We see him in the sacraments. Perhaps, too, we see him in the candle burning by the altar-side. We see him in the Cross.

Walking in the door of the sanctuary, we are confronted by – a font, a basin on a stand.

It is water – water for baptism, water for renewal of baptism, water for taking a blessing. In the name of Christ, who is our guide, we walk further in.

There are people here, spread about. We look for a place to sit.

About us are other people. Why are they here? Is this their first time too?

Up front there is a table raised on a couple of steps. Over and behind it hangs a symbol of a cross. Behind and to the sides, we see shelves on one hand, and a small cabinet on the other. In front of it and between the table and us there is a railing and a place to kneel.

Music begins. We sing, or search for a hymnal, or a song sheet. Or we stay silent.

Then we are standing. With others we sing a song of praise. 

And we pray. And we hear the word of God. And we confess our sins, receive reconciliation and share the peace of Christ.

Offering of our gifts – money, bread, wine, perhaps a prayer card – we gather for celebration. There is a meal, a symbolic meal, and together with all those who came in the door and past the baptismal font, we share in the community of the saints of God.

In all humility, who are we to do this? Who are we to say we are the people of God? We are sinners! But – we are baptized! We are baptized into the life of Christ, by his grace. And we believe that through his grace we, and all the people of the world, are saved.

The world.

But there is an objection. It comes from Pontius Pilate, Roman governor of Judea.

The world that Pilate serves, that he wields power in, is not the world from which Christ comes. He holds his power from a worldly system that does not even recognize God’s reign.

The world – the ‘cosmos’ – the system – the order of all things and all ages: whose is it?

Whose world is this? Whose church is this? Is it yours? Is it his? Or does it belong to someone else?

Our Lord proclaims:

My kingdom is not from the system of this world. I have come into the world to bear witness to the truth. And all those who belonging to the truth hear my voice come unto me.

I am their shepherd. I am their king.

Not you, Pilate. Not Caesar. Not anyone else.

What kind of king is this? One who says he has nothing of his own, but what his father gives him. One who gives all of himself, that we may share in the abundance of his reign.

One who, giving all of himself, asks also of us that we give our all to him, that we, with nothing of our own, as he has nothing of his own, may receive all things through him.

And return them, into his hands, at his feet, in praise.

All that we have is thine, O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.

You know who said that first? David. King of Judah. As he dedicated the site of the Temple at the end of his reign. He was king of the Jews – and he knew his Master.

He knew his Maker. He knew his Lord.

Do we know ours?

All that we have, all that we are, possessions, personality, prayer; we receive from God and give to God again. We are entrusted with a stewardship. (1 Corinthians 9:7, ASV)

We belong to God; therefore we should do God’s work.

(Cf. Ralph S. Cushman, I Have a Stewardship, Abingdon, 1939)

Every one is wholly God’s own by title of creation – so all our labors and all our powers and faculties must be wholly employed in the service of God, and even all the days of our life, that this life being ended we may live with him forever.

(Cf. Jeremy Taylor)

As we leave this temple, this place of salvation proclaimed and blessing received, as we venture out into the world – with its own system, pulling on us, to make us one of its own again – do we remember who our Lord is?

Do we show it? Do we live it? Do we make it real?

As we go back to the car, or the bus stop, or the pathway home, how shall we carry that kingdom within us that is the true kingdom after all? How shall we live our lives, in line at the grocery store? At the traffic light (C’mon, buddy! Get moving!)? At the office? At home? The channel changer – when we surf the system, whose system are we serving?

When we come to the end of our day, when we say goodnight and our prayers, whom have we been serving? What gospel have we proclaimed, what good news have we shared?

Think of it. Count your blessings. Think of the moments you have experienced grace. Or given it – and so received it again. And again, given it away, as blessed gift and offering.

In those small ways, in these days, we have seen God at work … in our world, in our lives, in our hearts.

Make our hearts your home, O Lord. Make our lives bear witness to your Truth. Make our souls show that Christ is king: that our God reigns. That Jesus is Lord. In this world – as in heaven – may his kingdom come. Amen.

The Sunday before Advent:  The Kingship of Christ

Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord,

the wills of thy faithful people;

that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works,

may of thee be plenteously rewarded;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Eternal Father,

whose Son Jesus Christ ascended to the throne of heaven

that he might rule over all things as Lord and King:

Keep the Church in the unity of the Spirit

and in the bond of peace,

and bring the whole created order to worship at his feet,

who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and for ever.

Stir up, O Lord,

the wills of your faithful people;

that plenteously bearing  the fruit of good works

they may by you be plenteously rewarded;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

(Book of Common Prayer, Church of Ireland, 2004)

Paul Mitchell, pastor of Snoqualmie United Methodist Church, pointed out that the word in the Greek text commonly translated into English as "world" is cosmos - or system.

Last Sunday after Pentecost: Christ the King, Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14, Psalm 93 , John 18:33-37, Revelation 1:4b-8, King of the Jews, Are you the king of the Jews?